


Dandelion Dust

by littleberd



Category: Der kleine Vampir | Little Vampire - Angela Sommer-Bodenburg, The Little Vampire, The Little Vampire (2000), The Little Vampire 3D (2017)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Major Illness, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Waldi is valdi and jorg is jordan, am I the only one having trouble with the ship tag, anywho my own take on this, congrats I made it angsty, if you're not here for endgame Rudolph and Tony get the hell outta my house, literally a mix and mash of the movies and the book series, little less human characters, my own lore on this, olga is agatha in this, you're going to cry just accept that before you start reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleberd/pseuds/littleberd
Summary: "MORTAL!"Tony raises an eyebrow at the intruder hissing at him from a top the canopy like a pissed off cat, "Afraid so, doctor says I've only got about 2 months left actually.""... what?"
Relationships: Anton Bohnsack/Rüdiger von Schlotterstein, Tony Thompson/Rudolph Sackville-Bagg
Comments: 25
Kudos: 179





	Dandelion Dust

My name is Tony Thompson. And this is the story of how I died.

You don't have to feel sorry for me. See, I was diagnosed with cancer at the young age of 11, and it's been steadily growing for years now. So I've made my peace with the world. I've shoved down pills, I've taken chemo, I've been needled to nothing at times. And then... well, according to the doc, I couldn't stall anymore.

I knew my chances of coming out on top of this monster were in the single digits, I'm honestly surprised I made it to 18. And my birthday... well, I never used my wish from the make a wish foundation. So the week before my birthday, laying on the couch at home, doped up on pain meds and reading one of my old cheesy vampire comic books I hoarded as a hosptital bed bound kid, I jokingly said I wanted to find vampires...

I didn't think my parents would use my wish to fly me to a ramshackle bed and breakfast castle in the styx of Scotland that had several vampire sightings centuries back. Or that it would take so many boring hours to get to... and arrive to find that it had no service or wifi to speak of.

And, little did I know... that a vampire would find _ME_.

*******************************************************

"Isn't the scenery amazing Tony?" Dottie Thompson exaggerates, taking photo after photo of the endless forest and mountain view that has made up the majority of the ride from the sketchy little airport.

"Yeah, totally not like fall in tennessee around the mountains." Tony grouses, looking down at his phone in disgust, finding no bars whatsoever no matter how many ways he held it up and out in every direction his arm would allow. Sighing in defeat, Tony turns it off and tosses it onto the neighboring back seat, grumpily turning his head towards the window to look at the wall of foilage and cliffs taking up his window.

It did look like a scene straight from a painting but staring at the same painting for four hours was time he wasn't going to get back.

Sunset made the scene look like it was a world on fire, the leaves almost giving a stain-glass effect. Soon the sun disappeared behind one of several mountains however; and the gps Tony's dad had brought with him was glitching out again, wanting to make them turn off a cliff.

With an exhausted growl, Bob Thompson parked the car on the little bit of land past the road leading to the cliff and got out. Trying to see where the road would end and if there were lights in the distance or not. But as he looked over the cliff he chokes.

Having enough of sitting in the car, Tony gets out to stretch his legs, his mother opens her own door for much the same reason.

"Tony, get back in the car." Bob requests quietly, not looking at him but at what resided below the cliff.

Tony rolls his eyes and comes around the car to see what the fuss is about. And there it is. An ancient cemetery, with hundreds of antique and extravagant grave stones and large crypts that speak of money in their sculptured concrete leaves and columns.

"Pfft... our gps is trying to send me to the grave sooner." Tony snickers, clapping his Dad on his back. "Chill Dad, probably means we're close anyway, it was mentioned in that brochure that it was within walking distance to one of the largest cemeteries in Europe."

Dottie hugs him from behind tightly, "You're right Tony bologna. Which means that there are beds waiting for us. So lets get back in the car, we're going to visit it soon enough anyway, but NOT before I sleep off this jet lag."

Tony groans in agreement, his Dad shaking his head out of the depressive state, a barely there grin drawing out a chuckle from his tired body. "Right. Well they better be open even though it's the _dead_ of night."

Tony and Dottie moan with fake distaste.

"What? We're all in mutual agreement that we're _bone-tired_." Bob continues, chuckling sadistically.

"Bob, I love you dearly, but if I hear one more dad joke today I'm going to shove you off that cliff myself." His wife says testily.

Bob snorts, as they head back to the car. But for some reason, when Tony thinks back on it, he doesn't know if it was some strange pull he had towards the edge of the cliff, or just to take in the view unobscured by his father's mourning back.

But he remembers seeing a figure moving in the tree line outside of the gates. He had tossed it to the back of his mind that night, playing it off as something reasonable like a mountain cat or a fox or something. But now he knew that the only creature who's eyes have any right to be that hungry red glow can only belong to an intelligent hunter.

**********************************************

In the daytime, the castle looked like someone had taken it out of a raggedy fairytale book, impressive at a glance but in ruins out of the corner of your eyes. But at night, it was a true sight, the cracks and rubble hidden within the proud shadows it cast by the replica torches burning in false flickering sconces.

Tony checks his phone again and glares at the lack of bars on it.

The old couple at the front entrance waved them down, asking in a slight accent. "Thompson family?"

"Yes! Are you Mr. and Mrs. Wulftrud?" Bob asks in turn.

"Yes! We are the caretakers of the old McAshton castle. Your family must be _exhausted_ from your trip. Let us help you with your luggage and you're just in time for dinner as well dearies." Mr. Wulftrud smiles kindly, everyone helping to unload the trunk.

"It's been remodeled very little from it's original state, thankfully we've got an elevator now where the old servants stairwell was so carrying things up won't result in a sprained ankle as it's claimed many a victim back in the day." Mrs. Wulftrud recounts laughing lightly in the hall.

Tony wrinkles his nose at the smell but raises an eyebrow at the décor. It was smattered with old portraits of narrow eyed aristocracy with little plagues underneath, engraved with names and little anecdotes, but what really drew the eye was that it was absolutely smothered with garlic garlands and wooden crosses.

"These original too? Or is this a common trend in Scotland?" Tony asks sarcastically.

Mr. Wulftrud chuckles at that, "This is the McAshton castle, they were the most prominent hunting family in the world. They have family roots that go all the way back into creating the crossbow. But you might know them more by their connection to the church, there were famous witch hunters in their ranks and even more notoriously van helsing's wife was a McAshton. So yes, the crosses are original, the garlic is just for decoration to 'draw in more tourists'. But more so there's been a bad smell in here since the town folks killed them off, cursed."

At the end of the hall a portrait hangs, gilded in gold, a lady sits with long flaxen locks cascading down her emerald green dress. Golden hued eyes squinted in mirth with red lips in an almost smirk. Sitting with her hands in her lap, a spec of silver, almost a smudge, on her ring finger.

"Who's she?" Tony asks.

"Oh, that's lady Aislinn. Our main attraction, poor girl. She was the last McAshton to live here. She and her family had been proclaimed to be vampires by her cousin, the constable at the time, Campbell Rookery. But it was in fact tuberculosis and not vampirism that they had contracted. The whole village had formed a mob and dragged out her family to be beheaded in this very hall. They didn't find her though." Mrs. Wulftrud sighs sadly up at her.

"And the village started thinking it was suspicious that the constable made the claim after having his marriage proposal rejected by Lady Aislinn. The Rookery family had been cut off from the family fortune for bribery and irresponsible gambling. Some saw it as Campbell Rookery vying for more funds and getting revenge when his scheme didn't go according to plan. So yet another mob was gathered and they stormed the constable's home. But there, they found him... dead as a door nail and pale as a ghost with a stake through his heart. But the real mystery is why the constable's body had not a drop of blood left. And that is where the rumor of Lady Aislinn being the very thing they feared." Mr. Wulftrud finished cheekily, "It's a true story though. The town even exhumed his remains and a medical autopsy was done on his remains with not a clue how it was accomplished. The village buried him with the remains of the family they had butchered in a potters field, cutting off his head. He was the only corpse that hadn't suffered from the terrible disease. But Lady Aislinn was never found and with her the possible answers to her cousin's strange death."

Tony tilts his head at her portrait. _She's definitely got a lot more secrets behind that smile..._

The elevator seemed antique as well but it looked to be well taken care of. Four floors up lead to a hallway, cobblestone floor and fake candle scones lighting the way. The Wulftrud's stopped at the door at the very end of the hall, unlocking it with a little key. The room was large and extravagant, blood red wallpaper and a gothic Cherrywood bed frame with a canopy of drooping dark purple, the blackout curtains from floor to vaulted ceiling. There was a vanity and a large wardrobe in the corner, glossy and likewise made of Cherrywood.

"Wow." Tony gulps, honestly he was afraid to touch anything. The bedroom looked like he'd walked into a Jane Austin book.

"Yes, this was Lady Aislinn's room. None of the furniture is technically original but from the letters she left behind she described her room much like this. This will be Mr. Tony's room." Mrs. Wultrud explains, handing the key to Tony in the same moment.

"Your room is this door here-"

Tony barely paid them any mind as they left for the other room. Tony looks at the key and then back at the room he'd decided would become his hospice as soon as he had gotten on the plane.

"Well Lady Aislinn, guess we're sick buddies." Tony whispers, deciding that it was best he started putting away his suitcase's contents.

Having put everything away, Tony takes out his medication. a kaleidoscope of pills in small containers. He has 4 to take tonight. But soon he'd be taking them all. Maybe not tonight... maybe the next morning. He wanted his parents to at least see this place in the daylight before he carked it.

Slipping the key into his pocket, he turned off the light and closed the door behind him.


End file.
